This trip was announced as "Freezin' on a Fourteener",
but given the weather we had that title seems out of line...

Nine hardy souls set out to brave the chill and deep powder of winter,
only to find spring conditions and sunburn instead of winter and
frostbite. Those who drove Hwy 395 from the north endured a blizzard
(no kidding) to get there. Those who drove Hwy 395 from the south found
completely dry roads after escaping the Bay Area drizzle near I-5.

The Horseshoe Meadow road is "closed" at about 5500', but the gate is no
longer locked and you can easily drive around the Road Closed sign.
Rumor has it that people kept breaking the locks off the gate because
the road is so often snow-free. With a bit of spinning and a few stops
to shove rocks out of the way, even regular passenger cars got within a
quarter mile of the saddle (to 9500'). That cut a full day off our
4 day schedule, and we finished in 2.5 days. 4WD with chains had been
over the top and down to the creek but there was one drift that looked
dangerously soft so we clumped down the road in our plastic boots and
switched to skis when the road levelled off about 300' below the saddle.

Route finding is non-trivial in shallow drainages filled with trees, but
Clement had been there enough times to basically do the right thing. My
intuition was corrected by my GPS at least once and we made no wrong
turns following the South Fork up toward Long Lake. Fresh snow stuck to
our skis in places, but MaxiGlide or Skin Wax seemed to cure it nicely.
Because we drove higher than expected, we didn't leave the cars until
9am and we didn't quite get to our intended campsite... lunch at 10200'
in a clearing, past the unnamed lake at 10600', and after a nice contour
to avoid some cliffs we camped just north of the outlet of the
eastern-most of South Fork Lakes.

Overnight temps stayed in the high teens and we didn't have much wind in
camp even though the carved snow in the meadow proved it had been very
nasty there recently. There was actually some dry ground around the trees,
and only a couple feet of snow on the level at 11000'. Did I mention there
were no clouds in sight all day? Same for summit day! I never put on my
mittens, and while walking I just wore finger glove shells with no liners.

We left camp around 7am, having ditched our warm sweaters before the sun
touched us. It took a precious 45 minutes to get to where we were going
to camp at Long Lake, and we paid for that later, but the intended
campsite would have been more exposed and less comfortable. Soon we were
at High Lake, looking back at an odd ice flow where water seeps froze in
layer after layer on relatively flat ground. We should have left our
skis there, but we strapped them to our packs and climbed to New Army
Pass in crampons. Austin managed to kick all the tough steps, including
some 40 degree stuff right at the top that we knew would be trouble later.
Further east, Heather and I found mostly crampon-hard windpack that we
didn't break through, and joined the others near the top. We topped out
about 200' east of the New Army Pass sign.

Once on the summit ridge/plateau, we regretted lugging our skis up
there. It was barren. Over 12000' in early February and there were just
patches of snow between mostly bare rocks and sand. Two miles each way.
2000 feet of gain and loss. It was supposed to be a cinch on skis, but
it turned into a bit of a slog in plastic boots.

Our token snowshoer had originally intended to skip summit day, but
wound up leaving camp a bit after us and climbing onto the plateau for a
look around. One other person called it quits part way to the summit,
saving his strength for the return. Curl, on the other hand, had lugged
his full pack up there and was planning to keep going solo for a few
more days (eventually coming out at Whitney Portal). Suddenly the group
inverted, with Curl dropping his pack and shooting to the front and the
rest of us trailing behind.

We reached the summit of Mt Langley (14042') just before 2pm without
further ado. There had been some strong winds at the pass and along the
first part of the ridge, but the summit was quite calm and we plopped
down to enjoy the view. Neighboring ridges had more snow, but everything
on the crest near us was as bare as late spring. A bit of a queue
started up to use my cell phone, which had perfect reception from the
summit, and the nonbelievers started down while we weren't looking... a
good choice, as it turned out, but I would have liked to spend more than
half an hour at the top after all the time it took to get there. We were
the first to sign the register since November.

Regrouping at New Army Pass, without Curl, we looked over the edge and
realized we had only about 30 minutes before the sun was off the snow
and it would crust up. I tossed a 10 pound rock off the side to see how
hard the snow was, and it didn't bounce - a great sign, but misleading.
Austin SKIED DOWN, proving that free-heel bindings work just great for
jump turns on 30-40 degree icy slopes when strapped to the right person.
Paul went down sans crampons but facing the wall and kicking steps. I
did a short glissade after everyone told me it was too steep, but
gave up and stopped about 40' down when the snow got harder.

So far so good. Paul and I worked our way below a boulder where we could
put crampons on safely while Heather methodically kicked her way down
the slope (having put crampons on at the top). Then Clement's crampons
came off his rented boots. Kai's crampon straps didn't fit around his
overboots. Clement got his crampons on again. They came off again. Kelly
graciously chopped steps while Clement descended below the hard band
(which was narrow enough that I should have kept glissading and skipped
crampons - but better safe than sorry) and got back into the steps they
had used for ascending. I followed Kai down to keep an eye on his
straps. Austin eyed us from the bottom of the slope - he could have
already been in camp, but he hung around to make sure everyone was OK.

All in all, we did fine. No falls, no arrests, no errors. The sun was
way down by the time we returned to High Lake, and we split up there in
a dash for camp. Clement and I made it before headlamps were required,
about 6pm, and all were safely back within half an hour. An 11 hour
summit day ended with a couple hours of conversation and feasting. We
did not get up early the next day!

The pack into camp had taken under 8 hours, going out took about half
that. Our lone snowshoer was only about 30 minutes behind the group,
even with gentle slopes and lots of miles to glide on skis, but the
skiers insisted that he didn't have as much fun. We spent time changing
clothes, packing gear, driving down, having pizza, and still got home
way before midnight.

Ah, springtime in the Sierra. It starts early some years! The forecast
is for a storm next weekend, which would be the traditional President's
Day blowout that we avoided on purpose, so the good weather wasn't
ENTIRELY an accident.